Dala
by Fleur de Fur
Summary: Set a bit before a lot of the main characters in the wild mage series are knockin about, its kind of a tamora pearcebuffy crossover. and it starts off a bit boring
1. The Beginning

Hello! This is my third Fanfic, its for the Tortall books. Sorry but any characters you know won't come up for a bit. However, you shouldn't have to wait too long! I've just changed unis cos I'm studying in Germany for a year but I've had to wait a bit to get connected - and I thought the Germans were so punctual! Anyway, it means that I've written a few chapters in the time its taken to connect me so there'll be two or three all at once. Yay! (That's if anyone's reading it!) Sorry the first ones only quite short, its more of an introduction thing cos its not in any of the countries or has any of the people in it. If you don't like it go and read Emperess Mage by Stargirl-Rebels, its really quite good and should make up for reading something you didn't like.  
  
Anyway, make yourself a brew, sit back and enjoy!  
  
****************** The Beginning  
  
To the east of the lands of Tortall, Galla and Scanra lay a ridge of mountains known as the roof of the world, and beyond these mountains lay yet more lands, little roamed by the westerners. Some of them were wild and exotic, populated by tribes who lived high in the trees of immense rainforests; others were so harsh that only a few poor souls managed to scrape a living in them. Rendar, however, was quite similar to the western lands as it bordered the mountains and there was some trade between the east and west.  
  
At the bottom of one of the mountains, though not the one high enough to be called THE roof of the world, there was a farmstead owned by Ralf, a broad, middle-aged man verging on seven feet tall with shoulder-length hair and a bushy beard of bright red. His beautiful blonde wife Dara had died over ten years ago at the birth of her raven-haired daughter Dala. Dara had also left a legacy of three strapping strawberry blonde youths of sixteen, fifteen and twelve, with a few failed pregnancies in-between.  
  
Ralf had long doubted Dala was his, but there had been a five-month long snowstorm all those years ago, when Dala had been conceived, and although the farmstead received many travellers returning to or coming from the west, none had stopped by in this period as the snow had been impassable. Still the man considered the girl a blessing. She cleaned up and cooked for him and his sons and in a few years she would be considered a woman and his bed had been cold for so long. Still, a quick fumble now and then did him no harm.  
  
The cold awoke Dala under her thin blankets in the bed she made beneath the kitchen table. The young girl shivered in the scant silvery light afforded through the thin gap in the wooden shutters and, rising from under the table dressed only in a thin undyed cotton dress, she thrust them open to reveal the pale light of early dawn. The fields that she saw stretched for miles, though only those in a five-mile radius belonged to her father. These pastures were no good for growing grain but they contained many sheep, which were useful for wool, and goats that were used for milk. No one else lived nearby save a shepherd who lived in the barn of their farmstead with his daughter Selmana, five years Dala's senior. Still not an adult in Dala's eyes, the shepherd's daughter had lain with her two older brothers and if the shepherd knew, he had not forced a marriage, maybe someday hoping that Ralf himself would take a fancy to her.  
  
That was unlikely. She was plain with mousy brown hair and dull brown eyes and a little stocky too. Not like Dala. She had pure white skin and cloudy grey eyes full of mystery, the girl showed promise of growing into a beautiful woman. She often wondered if she looked like her mother, for she bore no resemblance to the rest of her family. The shepherd had once told her that her mother had been incredibly pretty, but had never given the girl a description of her.  
  
Now Dala was called from her thoughts by the shepherd shouting of the sheep in the fields. It was time too, for Dala to be at her tasks. She lit the kitchen fire and stove and went outside to fill the kettle with icy water from the pump, some of the cold water splashing on her bare feet and making her shiver. It was already cold enough as the season was now early autumn and soon the snows would be upon them. It would mean an end to the travellers and traders who stopped by, sleeping in their barn.  
  
These people were a welcome break to Dala, who grew tired of the constant monotony of her father, brothers, Selmana and the shepherd. In these months all of them grew irritable, tired of each other's company, and she was generally favourite for lashings from her father's belt. In recent years she had guessed it was because she had a strong resemblance to her mother, and so her appearance caused her father great pain.  
  
How wrong she was.  
  
Stumbling inside with the heavy kettle she placed it over the fire to boil and returned outside to milk the goats. With this milk she made a big pot of porridge, which she left to warm over the stove. Selmana soon came in to take over after she had washed by the pump. Now it was Dala's turn to go outside and wash. Rooting in a chest in the corner of the kitchen, she pulled out a simple pale blue dress and a dry towel and then ventured outside with her belongings.  
  
Cautiously, she stripped off by the pump, for it was cold, and then hurriedly splashed the icy water over her thin frame, setting her teeth to chatter. The block of harsh soap sat on a small stone shelf nearby and as she picked it up it shot out of her hands. Bending down to pick it up she happened to glance up and saw her father leering out of his second storey window at her. Pretending not to have seen, she quickly turned her back on him and continued her bathing at speed. Hurriedly, she dried herself and pulled the dress on, itsthin woolly material not really enough against the outdoor cold. 


	2. Arrivals

I know, I'm very sorry, this chapter seems to go on about dishes for ages and it's a bit boring. I promise it'll get more interesting in later chapters.  
  
A few months later.  
  
The snow was quite deep now. Dala sighed as she stood at the kitchen sink, washing dishes; as usual it had been a completely uneventful winter: just her stuck indoors with her family, the shepherd and Selmana; and her life of drudgery. The snow continued to fall, completely uninterested in what she was doing. It was only falling lightly now, but slowly adding to the vast whiteness already collected.  
  
There were many dishes to wash, as there always was after the midwinter feast between the two families. Her father even allowed Dala and the other two to eat with his family, as they had been given the day off, although Dala still had her chores to do. This was made even worse by the fact Selmana didn't have to work. The others didn't bother offering to help with the clearing of the table or the washing up. There was much home brew to be had and a Dala to do it all. So they celebrated in the home room while she was left with a mountain of washing up. Every half an hour or so the water got cold and she would let the plug out while it drained away. Then she would wrap a woollen shawl around her shoulders and take the bucket from next to the back door and slowly walk across the icy yard to the pump. This would need a good few hard presses on it to get it going before the most icy cold water would come flowing out.  
  
On her seventh or eighth trip she was unlucky enough to slip and fall on a patch of ice she had earlier created when slopping some of the water. A painful jolt ran up her spine as she fell on the floor and slid across the yard. Spinning as she went she wrapped her arms around her head, expecting to slam into a cold hard wall. Instead she came to rest against something hard but strangely uncold. Looking up she was very surprised and a little scared to find a dark figure looming over her, which was soon joined by a slightly smaller one.  
  
"She's." came the light male voice of one of them.  
  
The larger figure turned its head to the smaller one and murmured something in a deep male voice before a gloved hand crossed her vision. Tentatively gripping the rough leather, she had a hold of the taller man's hand and he pulled her up.  
  
Shivering, she looked at the two who didn't even wobble slightly from the cold - this was probably because they were both well wrapped up against it, so much so that the only features she could make out were their eyes; all four were grey and expressionless. She assumed they were father and son, the taller one with the deep voice and a few inches over 6 feet was the father and the smaller one, just under 6 feet, had the lighter voice.  
  
"Um, would you like to come in for a cup of tea? We've just finished our midwinter feast and there's plenty left over, you can have some of that, or there's some broth that I made from some of the bird," she offered, as she always did whenever anyone stopped by the farmstead. Although it wasn't law to offer travellers food and a bed in your barn, everyone who lived near the mountains had a religious respect for the mountains and so offered travellers through them somewhere safe to rest so that if the travellers died, their ghosts wouldn't come back and haunt those who didn't offer them safety.  
  
"Firstly, Tarek will fill up your bucket and carry it inside for you; to show you how grateful we are for your hospitality," said the father. His accent was more cultured than the rough mountain burr that Dala and her family had. The son sighed and went to pick up the bucket which Dala had dropped when she slipped.  
  
"Thank you, Tarek. You'll probably have to press the handle on the pump up and down a few times to get it started 'cos it ices up," Dala advised before she and the father went inside.  
  
There were some hooks next to the fireplace in the large kitchen. They were near enough so that anything damp could get enough heat to dry but not too near so that anything would catch on fire. After the father had taken off his heavy outer coat and trousers she hung these on the hooks. His hat, gloves and scarf she placed on the warming bar over the stove.  
  
"Please can we take you up on your offer of broth.?"  
  
"Dala, sir," she replied. "I'd give you some tea now but it'll have to wait until your son brings the water in."  
  
The man laughed, a good hearty laugh that made the weather-browned skin around his eyes crinkle up. He appeared to be early forties with short raven black hair like her own, though his was shot through with the odd silver hair. His face had a short beard on it, probably he hadn't had much chance to shave. "Tarek is not my son. We're brothers, isn't that right?" he asked, just as Tarek managed to stumble in through the door with the heavy bucket of water.  
  
"Yes, Daran," came Tarek's reply, muffled by the scarf that he wore around his neck and over his mouth.  
  
Dara ran over to him and tipped the bucket into the empty pot that hung over the fire, while he took off the outer garments that protected him against the winter chill. She could see the resemblance between the two, although the younger man, who appeared to be about fifteen, didn't have the same weathered skin as his brother. Tarek's was still quite pale and smooth.  
  
As soon as the water was boiled she tipped some of it over the dishes and used the rest to make tea for herself and the two men, who were already heartily tucking into their broth. She placed it before them and then seated herself at the table with them, relaxing before she started on the final mound of dishes.  
  
"You're a bit young to be doing all this by yourself, what are you nine, ten?" asked Daran. "Where's your mother?"  
  
"I'm ten, sir. Ma died when she gave birth to me." The brothers exchanged glances at this point. Dala noticed but had no idea why they would do this, but it wasn't really her place to ask. "Normally Selmana, the daughter of the shepherd who helps Pa with the flock, gives me a hand, but today she's got a day off 'cos of the midwinter feast . What's your business round here at this time of year, if you don't mind me asking?"  
  
The older man cleared his throat. "We, er, sort out problems for people."  
  
The younger man nodded in agreement.  
  
Dala looked down at her tea. Clearly they were hiding something from her, but then she was only ten and everyone else just kept things from her because of her youth. No reason for two strangers to act any differently.  
  
She was disturbed from her musings by her father stumbling into the kitchen, obviously already quite merry. Hopefully, later he would still be in a good mood from all the alcohol consumed; sometimes, as the night wore on, his mood would turn sour and she would find a place to hide, often under the sacking in the barn. Then he would take his anger out on David, the youngest of her older brothers. His slightly unfocused eyes stared at her lustily, although in her youth she didn't recognize this. Daran did, also unnoticed by her, and bristled at her father.  
  
"Have you not finished the dishes yet, Dala?" Ralf slurred at her, before focusing on Daran and Tarek. "Ah! You should have told me we had guests. Come lads, there's plenty of home brew for you in t'other room."  
  
Tarek opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Daran. "No thanks, we don't drink. We'd just like a place in your barn and we'll be on our way tomorrow," he said, his tone not very friendly.  
  
Ralf hurrumphed in reply and muttered something under his breath as he staggered out of the room, leaving Dala alone again with the men. Raucous laughter came from the other room as the three all looked at each other.  
  
"I'd best finish these dishes off," she informed the two. As she washed she stood with her back to them. The two spoke in low voices and her ears strained to catch inaudible snatches of the conversation. She was disappointed. Other visitors had shown her card and magic tricks, even teaching her a few, but it seemed she would receive no such attention from these two, concerned as they were in mumbling about their own affairs.  
  
When she had nearly completed the dishes Daran offered to make another round of tea for them all. Dala gladly accepted and she sat down at the table again with them and listened as they told stories about some of the lands they had visited; the old-fashioned monarchy of Tortall, the Bazhir tribes who caused many problems for the Tortallans, the warrior men and women of the K'mir tribes. It all sounded so fantastic, but once again their chatter was interrupted, this time by Selmana who had slyly crept away from the men of the household to inspect the two newcomers. Unknown to Dala's oldest brother, Toms, but blatantly obvious to Dala, Selmana often bedded many of the men who stopped by at the house. Daran didn't pay much attention to her but Tarek was clearly interested by the girl swaggering her hips exaggeratedly for the two. She caught him looking and gave him a suggestive wink before picking up a cup ad swaggering back out of the kitchen.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The next morning, as Dala, Selmana, the shepherd and the two visitors sat eating breakfast; Dala noticed that Selmana and Tarek kept giving each other sly glances and smiles across the table. If Toms was nicer to her, perhaps Dala would feel sorry for him, but she didn't. All of them were a bit bleary eyed, the shepherd mostly as he had been drinking heavily, and because it was still quite early in the morning and the sun had yet to rise. Yawning, the shepherd rose from the table and placed his dished in the sink.  
  
"Best go and look at the sheep," he said, trudging wearily to the door.  
  
He had to jump back quickly, not a graceful feat for a man in his condition, as snow poured into the room. Daran and Tarek rose and helped him push the door back to, leaving the three standing in a pile of mushy snow.  
  
"Must have snowed heavily last night," the shepherd informed. "We'll have to dig a tunnel out to the flock's barn."  
  
"We'll gladly offer our assistance," said Daran. "It's the least we can do. It looks like we're going to be stuck here longer than expected." 


End file.
